Hello From The Other Side
by pseudonymitous
Summary: Post- Series Finale. Annie knows what she wants, but with the way things are now, getting it may be harder than she expected.
1. One

Annie wasn't sure what she wanted, but she was willing to give Auggie's suggestion a try. She closed her eyes and attempted to tune into her instincts and underlying desires. What had she always wanted? Who did she want to be now?

Her instincts had no trouble finding her, crashing over her in a wave best described as "overwhelming." A thousand vignettes converged into a burning desire, and when she opened her eyes, she knew exactly what she needed.

"Got it," she said, breathless, just in time to see Auggie walk out the door. "Wait."

He paused, planting his cane in front of him and half-turning in her direction. "Yeah?"

"I want you." The words emerged from her involuntarily, presenting themselves without associate emotion and lingering in the air like a thick and tangible mist. This wasn't something to be considered, to be treated with the wishy-washy analysis of a pro and con list. It wasn't a thought or a feeling. This was a fact.

"I just told you I'm leaving with Natasha," Auggie said, his voice carrying a choked tinge of incredulity. _Why would you do this if you knew that?_ his subtext screamed at her. _What the hell is wrong with you?_

"I don't know," she told his subtext.

"Okay," he said flatly, because they weren't making any sense anyway. They were communicating, as they so often used to, through telepathic emotion instead of words, and it was the most painful mode of communication in existence.

 _Tell me you love me,_ she willed, but he remained silent. "I can't marry Ryan," she said instead.

"Why not?" Auggie asked before Annie was done saying his name.

"I think you know why," she said. "Ryan's a good man. He's brave. But he's brash. He likes that I need him."

"Annie Walker doesn't need anyone."

"He's right that I need him," Annie countered. "Auggie, I don't recognize myself. I can't be this person."

"Yes you can."

"No, I can't. And neither can you."

They stood on opposite sides of the room for a moment, those words hanging in the air between them, tears pricking the back of Annie's eyes.

"We both know how this ends," she said, bold with conviction and bruised all over. "I say yes to Ryan, you go off with Natasha. I become his girl Friday and run insulated, armored-car plays until my heart blows out of my chest. Ryan takes one to the head in a dirty business deal, I become his widow. Maybe he becomes mine, I don't know. Natasha is who she is- fickle, anti-establishment. A good lay and a reckless person. She never stops seeing you as a suit, no matter how much you change for her. She leaves you high and dry in the middle of the night because that's the game you play. And by the time you and I realize how much happier we could have made each other, it's too late. We're ghosts."

Annie watched as a nerve in Auggie's clenched jaw jumped, as his brow hardened and his knuckles went white on his cane.

"You're out of line," he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear him.

"Yeah, I know," she said back. "I love you."

"You saw how this went," he blew up. "That, Annie... that was the most painful mistake of my life."

"The timing was off."

"We were off."

"You _lied."_

"I thought there were no hard feelings."

"I didn't want any of that, Auggie," she said. She was crying now. "I wanted you. I thought I knew you. And I thought..."

"You thought you did."

"I never thought you'd cheat on me."

"I'm sorry, Annie."

"I want you anyway."

Auggie's brow furrowed, his head tilted in disbelief. He looked at her like he pitied her. It made Annie sick.

 _"Why?"_ he asked, with his full force of breath.

"You're all I can see."

"That's cliche."

"It's the truth. I close my eyes, Auggie, and it's you. I want to go back, before Parker and Simon, back to-"

"To who you thought I was. Helen came before them, Annie. She came before you. And so did Tash."

"But they left," she countered.

"So did you." And just like that, he left, too.


	2. Two

Auggie left with every intention of going home to Natasha. Well, not home; to a predetermined meeting place where she would be waiting with bags packed and her heart on her sleeve. His own words rattled around in his mind, harsh and honest, and he tried to remember the last time he'd really unloaded like that. He'd been angry, yes, thousands of times, but he was with the CIA then. He was a free agent now, pardon the irony, and his anger resonated with and without purpose. As a soldier and an agent, he'd spent years thinking he had a pass to be livid because he could channel his passion into results that could help people. What meaning did his words have now that he wasn't a mouthpiece for a greater organization? His rebellion, his freedom, his rants... all of it felt like a shout into the void.

Like metal, Natasha was a conductor. She ran very, very hot and terribly cold. She could generate an electric shock or repulse your advances with an inhuman strength. She was also a metaphor, Auggie realized, for a life that had not previously been his to live. She represented freedom and ferocity; she was candy for dinner and ice cream for breakfast and not-having-a-bedtime. She was sitting in that predetermined meeting place with a bag of his socks and underwear and her heart on her sleeve, catching the attention of every man in the vicinity and not giving a shit about it.

That was what made it so hard to stand her up.

Auggie was supposed to turn on Vine. Hanging a right on Vine meant a crosswalk and a coffee shop and a whirlwind adventure. But no one was tracking him now. No one knew who he was or where he was supposed to be except for Natasha, and while that could be an oh-so-dangerous situation for a blind man in the city, Auggie felt his whole body relax in the warmth of the anonymity. It was a shitty thing to do, not turning on Vine, but he was done doing things out of obligation.

Who knew what he wouldn't do out of obligation next.


End file.
